Then Things Went Dark, page 15
“Really?” Kalpana asks.
“No,” he says, turning a withering glare on her. “That was obviously a joke. The sex was perfectly satisfactory.”
Jerome stares resolutely at his shoes as though terrified any engagement in the conversation might lead to more details about their sexual encounter.
“I meant the relationship,” Theo clarifies.
“Why do we care?” Isko says. “Aren’t we better than this constant gossip? I thought this show was supposed to be something different, something beyond the obsession with social dynamics and the constraints of the status quo.”
“Is that why you leaped at the chance to steal points from me?” Jerome mutters.
“Oh, get over it, Jerome; it’s a game. You can’t take it so personally.”
“Isko’s right,” Kalpana interrupts, then rushes. “About Rhys and Araminta—not about the competition; feel however you want about that. But I’m sick of us talking about this. I’m bored by myself.”
“Shocking,” Jerome coughs into his drink.
“Don’t you care at all?” Theo asks Isko. “It would be perfectly understandable if you did.”
“Any lingering desire I had for him was swiftly wiped out last night after all the theatrics with throwing the paddle into the flames,” Isko says, nose wrinkling with distaste. “He’s acting like a love interest in an eighties movie, Theo. And I certainly don’t want him turning up at my door with a stereo.”
Isko: You know, Theo is the first person here to consider how I might feel about all this. And I might not care, but it turns out I do care that none of them thought I might.
“What do you think tonight’s challenge will be?” Jerome asks, somewhat pointlessly given they have no way of knowing.
“Does it matter?” Kalpana asks. “I’m sure you’ll find a way to show the world what an untalented arsehole you are anyway.”
Isko: I disagree—Jerome’s very talented at being an arsehole.
“Kalpana, you’ve made it very clear how you feel about me so frankly, beat me in a challenge or shut the hell up,” he says, without rage, as though the words have been running through his head for days and he’s finally spitting them out.
“Is beating you in a court of law not enough?”
“You haven’t won yet. And your case is so ridiculous I doubt you ever will—especially when I get my hands on that prize money and spend it on the best lawyers money can buy.”
Kalpana drops lime wedges into her glass, and she’s still clutching the knife in a shaking hand and everything’s still blurry, but gone is the calm the Xanax promised.
“Fuck you, Jerome. You’re going down one way or another. Maybe we’ll get lucky and you’ll fall in all the ways you can.”
The creaking stops.
Theo glances down at his watch. “Two minutes on the dot.”
The shot cuts to Eloise on the screen, gleefully greeting the contestants. They are practically on the edge of their seats—or, in Araminta’s case, on the edge of Rhys’s lap.
“Good evening, contestants! Well, that’s our first full week complete. The competition is close, but it’s still anybody’s game!” Eloise says. “And tonight, we launch our second, weeklong challenge. It’s all very well being a standout individual, but no man is an island! To truly be exceptional you must be able to work together in a team. Which is why, this week, you’ll be paired up and each mini-challenge will be worth points for you and your partner to win.”
They stifle their discontent—not wanting to appear sneering of the very competition they volunteered for. But this goes against what this contest is supposed to stand for—being one of many, being incredible on your own merit, and being better than everyone else on the island.
Araminta squeezes Rhys’s hand, already thinking about how competing together will bring them closer and give them more opportunity for screen time.
“Our audience has also voted for your pairs!” Eloise says, and Araminta’s confidence in their pairing falters, only to be thoroughly shattered. “Isko and Araminta, you’ll be our first pair, and at the top of the leader board, you’ll be a match to contend with.”
Isko: You’re really going to put me with the girl rubbing her relationship in all of our faces?
Araminta: It won’t be the first time Isko and I have worked together, but he’s had moments of real cruelty here and…no, I’m not looking forward to it.
It’s not quite a lie and not quite the truth from either of them. They work well together, can read each other, and might have more in common than they care to admit. But there’s no warmth there and certainly no trust.
“Rhys, you’ll be with Theo.”
Rhys: Excellent.
Theo: Absolutely not.
“And Kalpana and Jerome, you’ll be competing together.”
Jerome: That’s quite some sense of humor you have, viewers.
Kalpana: Is there any chance the first task will be to murder your partner?
Having delivered so much information, Eloise now takes a moment to revel in it. Her smile is slightly too tight and makes obvious the work she’s had done to keep the same face that first appeared on-screen decades ago.
“And we’ll be kicking things off with our first challenge—because from now until this time tomorrow, you’re going to be spending an awful lot of time with your partner—a whole twenty-four hours handcuffed together to be precise.”
“Are you joking?” Kalpana hisses. Jerome is just as angry, leaping from his seat and then standing still, like he doesn’t know what to do with his outrage.
Theo: Is this punishment? Tying me to Rhys in the hope that in comparison my old bandmates don’t seem so bad?
“You can forfeit if you’d like,” Eloise says. “But I don’t think you’ll want to. Each of you will have a key, so if one of your pair decides to quit, it’s over for you both. You either need to be the last pair cuffed or still handcuffed by this time tomorrow. If you are, you’ll win five points each.”
“We’ve got this in the bag,” Araminta whispers to Isko who nods, albeit a little reluctantly.
Isko: It won’t be fun, but I don’t imagine it will be hard.
“Five points is not worth it,” Jerome snarls.
Eloise arches an eyebrow, and something lights in her eyes, like it’s a moment she’s been waiting for.
“Which brings me to my final announcement.” Eloise pauses for long enough to make eye contact with each one of them. It feels daring, like she would like to push them until they break. “Iconic has really taken the world by storm. And in return for making this competition into the phenomenon it has become, we’re doubling your prize money. Whoever has the most points in two weeks’ time will be walking away with half a million dollars.”
She doesn’t even finish speaking before the handcuffs click shut.
@LolaLois
I’ve never felt a prouder part of the public than when I saw those pairings lmao, we’re all such shit stirrers #Iconic
@RiotParadeOfficial
The allegations being leveled against us are unequivocally false. But we advocate supporting and believing victims—so would like to prove our innocence to you rather than have you take our word for it. Therefore, we’ve made the difficult decision to postpone our upcoming tour while we collaborate with investigators and allow this matter to be settled in the proper manner.
@MeeraAWrites
@RiotParadeOfficial you’re really gonna try the “they’re false” card when those underage girls literally have photos of the party in your hotel room? With the three of you in?? Theo Newman was right to cut ties with you, you’re disgusting #TeamTheo #Iconic
Yesterday, Jerome had been keen to help, to tell them anything he could. But this morning he glowers as Kennard enters, his nostrils flaring.
“So you weren’t going to tell us they’re airing the final episode tomorrow?” he snaps. “We all just had to find that out ourselves from our hotel TVs?”
“We’re the police, not AHX. Informing you of scheduling decisions is on them,” Kennard says. He tries not to look at the mirror, where Cloutier stands watching him. He can’t be in the same room without being distracted, but without him he has no counterbalance, no one to even out his harsh edges.
“That’s not fair—it’s disgraceful, actually. Rhys deserves better than his death to become a finale.”
“I agree, and if we can prove a crime occurred, then that won’t happen. So I’d like to bring us onto why you spent an exorbitant amount of time in the smoking area the day he died.”
“I was smoking.”
“For so long? And you actually spent a while in there most days, twice as long as the others. What would make you cling to a space without cameras like that? Our forensics teams are scouring it, so perhaps the more appropriate question is what were you doing?”
Jerome pales. “It wasn’t like that. It wasn’t the cameras; it was them. When you’re there, you can’t escape them. There was always someone wherever you wanted to go. We all kind of respected each other’s privacy in the smoking area—sometimes you’d go and someone would be there, so you’d head back later.”
“So you were avoiding your fellow contestants? Why?”
“Why?” he scoffs. “Have you not seen everything that happened those last few days? Jesus, what are you doing here talking to me—go watch the footage.”
“Would you really like us to do that when we know you messed with the cameras?”
“I didn’t do a thing to the cameras.”
“Then what did you do when you hacked into AHX?”
Jerome glares and says nothing.
“You know, Mr. Frances,” Kennard says, leaning forward. “I can’t help but feel you want that episode aired.”
Jerome locks eyes with Kennard, lip curling up in a sneer. “Maybe it wouldn’t be fair on Rhys, but maybe I trust the public to get justice more than I trust the detectives wasting time talking to me when they should be interviewing whoever murdered him.”
Another knock at the door, Maes summoning them out again.
“The lawyer’s finally here,” she says. “You can talk to Araminta.”
Season 1, Episode 9
The episode opens with an argument, a blur of rising voices that implies this has been going on for hours, but now it slows, becomes coherent, like a camera zooming into focus.
“You don’t get to dictate our every waking moment, Jerome!”
“All we’ve had are waking moments—you were tossing and turning all night. I haven’t slept.”
“Oh, grow up. I had to go with you to the fucking bathroom. I might never recover.”
“Why don’t you sue me over it. The sight of a penis is something people go to court over these days, isn’t it, Kalpana?”
“Are you really making light of indecent exposure?”
“You’ll give a name to anything, won’t you? This is why real issues are swept under the rug—”
“Jerome!” Kalpana screeches. “Can we please go be around some other people, because if I’m latched to you for two more minutes, I’m going to indecently expose you to the sharp edge of a knife.”
“I’ve said yes, but I’m not sitting with you and Theo Newman while you discuss whatever nonsense you’ve decided is of the utmost importance today. You’re like stoners, but without the drugs that might make it all bearable.”
Kalpana: This is the worst thing to ever happen to me.
Jerome: Wow, what an incredible amount of privilege you must have.
Kalpana: Either let me out of these handcuffs or shut up. Is this not bad enough without me having to sit through the confessional footage with you too?
“Fine! At this point I’d go sit with the leaders of the NRA and fucking Donald Trump himself if it got me away from being alone with you.” Kalpana rubs at her wrist, which is already chafed, despite the soft silken lining to the handcuffs. She’s almost certain they’re sex toys, which makes being bound to Jerome with them even worse.
“You know, I actually kind of like—”
“Do not finish that sentence if you don’t want me to unlatch my handcuff right this second. How on earth are any amount of points worth this to you?”
“If I have to explain the appeal of half a million dollars to you, then I have some questions.”
Kalpana huffs and tosses her hair from her face. Unlatching this would be letting Jerome win by proving that he’s getting to her.
“Besides,” he continues, “we don’t need to stay cuffed together all day. We just need to get the others to cave before we do.”
Kalpana stops fidgeting with the handcuff, and for the first time, she sees that she and Jerome might have something to work with in partnership after all—they are both conspiratorial and have no shame about being underhanded. They might both simply call such things being clever.
“What did you have in mind?” she asks.
Jerome straightens up, his smile smug and self-assured. “There are dynamics already at play—Rhys and Theo hate each other, Isko isn’t a fan of Araminta, and most importantly, Araminta and Rhys can’t keep their hands off each other. Isko and Theo won’t be able to stand it. I say we take all of that and push it to its absolute limit.”
The pair find Theo and Rhys sitting in stony silence, sipping at coffee they’d fumbled to make with their hands joined.
“Well, you look like you’re having as much fun with this as I am,” Kalpana comments, noting the way Theo’s hand tightens on his mug.
In the early morning, it’s not quite hot enough for the shaded patio to feel warm, but the promise of the sun burns on the periphery, and Kalpana pours coffee over ice like she already needs the coolant.
“It’s fine,” Theo says tersely.
“No, this is the worst,” Jerome agrees almost cheerfully. “Agreeing that we both hate this is the first time we’ve stopped arguing.”
“I’m sure I can handle being latched to Newman,” Rhys says, batting his eyelashes at Theo. “There must be dozens of teenage girls who would pay good money to be where I am right now.”
A vein in Theo’s neck throbs.
Kalpana considers pushing that further, but she’s not very good at improvising so she pivots to the track she’d planned. “Still, you can’t be happy to be paired with Theo over Araminta. I imagine you’d have a lot more fun handcuffed to her.”
Rhys’s gaze cools as he turns to her. “And is imagining Araminta and me in handcuffs something you’ve spent a lot of time doing?”
“Please,” she scoffs. “You might be shocked to discover this, but you aren’t my type, Rhys.”
“Araminta then. Do you wish you’d been paired with her? You could stop her escaping from you and force her to be by your side.”
Kalpana leans forward, narrowing her eyes. “Is that how you see your relationship? Like you’ve trapped her?”
“Did I miss where this escalated?” Theo interjects.
“I just don’t like a woman who kissed my girlfriend talking about her or our relationship,” Rhys snaps.
“It was a kiss,” Kalpana says icily. “And it was before you were dating. If you want to talk about a double standard—Araminta is currently handcuffed to a man you fucked.”
“Besides,” Jerome says, “everyone on this island has kissed Araminta. Hell, if the stories are anything to go by, half the population of London has kissed Araminta.”
“Theo, would you please come with me? I’d very much like to storm off now,” Rhys says.
“No, I’m quite happy right here.”
Rhys: I did consider it, actually—just unlatching the handcuff. I don’t want to do this—I want to be with Araminta. And maybe, for that opportunity, it would be worth losing. But I’m trying to think long term, of all the things that prize money could mean for us.
“I’ll unlatch the handcuff,” he bluffs.
“Jesus Christ, Sutton,” Theo grumbles, rising to his feet, coffee still clutched in his free hand. “Fine, whisk us away in whatever dramatic exit you have planned.”
Jerome: I think that went well, don’t you?
Kalpana: Yeah, it was a good start. A bit alarming though. Rhys brushes everything off, but that struck deep? I never even wanted a relationship with Araminta, and he was acting like he’d bested me.
Jerome: Is that what you’re mad at? The implied victory? Not him reducing Araminta to a prize?
Kalpana: Oh, get fucked, Jerome.
Araminta and Isko are so at ease with the situation that it has crossed into a passiveness that is in itself awkward. They are amicable enough, but they are not deep or meaningful, their conversation all stilted pleasantries and vague necessities.
Isko is unbothered.
But for Araminta, it ruffles something at the edge of her mind, some lingering concern she’d done her best to avoid but now struggles to evade: loneliness.
She feels lonely on this island. All these people and no one to confide in. She has had to rely on her friends more than most, but now that something so exciting is happening to her, she has no one. She wants someone to gush about her crush to, someone to get as excited as she is every time Rhys makes her swoon, someone to squeal to after every date.
But beyond Rhys, who is there? At best it is this—courteous disinterest.
“Hey, I want to touch up my makeup,” she says, drawing Isko to the bathroom and ambling to the conditioning mask, slipping out her bag of pills and carefully pressing one into his hands. He lifts a singular eyebrow, which could mean too many things—amusement, curiosity, surprise—and swallows the tablet without question.
In part, she needs it. In part, she hopes the secret might bond them together, repair their fractures.
Isko appreciates it, but he also pockets the existence of her pill stash away for future leverage.
They take their high to the beach. The sun scorches like it’s issuing a challenge. There is something almost Eloise-like in the way that it looms in the sky.
“Oh god,” Isko groans, and when Araminta looks up, she sees Theo and Rhys coming over.
“Rhys!” she beams unashamedly. The more she can be the excitable, innocent one in this relationship, the more she reshapes her own story. The thing they all miss when they scream about all the people she’s dated, when all they see is proof that no one can suffer her long but might like the look of her long enough to try—they miss that it is also a list of how many times she has gotten her hopes up, and put herself wholly on the line for love.
“No,” he says, turning a withering glare on her. “That was obviously a joke. The sex was perfectly satisfactory.”
Jerome stares resolutely at his shoes as though terrified any engagement in the conversation might lead to more details about their sexual encounter.
“I meant the relationship,” Theo clarifies.
“Why do we care?” Isko says. “Aren’t we better than this constant gossip? I thought this show was supposed to be something different, something beyond the obsession with social dynamics and the constraints of the status quo.”
“Is that why you leaped at the chance to steal points from me?” Jerome mutters.
“Oh, get over it, Jerome; it’s a game. You can’t take it so personally.”
“Isko’s right,” Kalpana interrupts, then rushes. “About Rhys and Araminta—not about the competition; feel however you want about that. But I’m sick of us talking about this. I’m bored by myself.”
“Shocking,” Jerome coughs into his drink.
“Don’t you care at all?” Theo asks Isko. “It would be perfectly understandable if you did.”
“Any lingering desire I had for him was swiftly wiped out last night after all the theatrics with throwing the paddle into the flames,” Isko says, nose wrinkling with distaste. “He’s acting like a love interest in an eighties movie, Theo. And I certainly don’t want him turning up at my door with a stereo.”
Isko: You know, Theo is the first person here to consider how I might feel about all this. And I might not care, but it turns out I do care that none of them thought I might.
“What do you think tonight’s challenge will be?” Jerome asks, somewhat pointlessly given they have no way of knowing.
“Does it matter?” Kalpana asks. “I’m sure you’ll find a way to show the world what an untalented arsehole you are anyway.”
Isko: I disagree—Jerome’s very talented at being an arsehole.
“Kalpana, you’ve made it very clear how you feel about me so frankly, beat me in a challenge or shut the hell up,” he says, without rage, as though the words have been running through his head for days and he’s finally spitting them out.
“Is beating you in a court of law not enough?”
“You haven’t won yet. And your case is so ridiculous I doubt you ever will—especially when I get my hands on that prize money and spend it on the best lawyers money can buy.”
Kalpana drops lime wedges into her glass, and she’s still clutching the knife in a shaking hand and everything’s still blurry, but gone is the calm the Xanax promised.
“Fuck you, Jerome. You’re going down one way or another. Maybe we’ll get lucky and you’ll fall in all the ways you can.”
The creaking stops.
Theo glances down at his watch. “Two minutes on the dot.”
The shot cuts to Eloise on the screen, gleefully greeting the contestants. They are practically on the edge of their seats—or, in Araminta’s case, on the edge of Rhys’s lap.
“Good evening, contestants! Well, that’s our first full week complete. The competition is close, but it’s still anybody’s game!” Eloise says. “And tonight, we launch our second, weeklong challenge. It’s all very well being a standout individual, but no man is an island! To truly be exceptional you must be able to work together in a team. Which is why, this week, you’ll be paired up and each mini-challenge will be worth points for you and your partner to win.”
They stifle their discontent—not wanting to appear sneering of the very competition they volunteered for. But this goes against what this contest is supposed to stand for—being one of many, being incredible on your own merit, and being better than everyone else on the island.
Araminta squeezes Rhys’s hand, already thinking about how competing together will bring them closer and give them more opportunity for screen time.
“Our audience has also voted for your pairs!” Eloise says, and Araminta’s confidence in their pairing falters, only to be thoroughly shattered. “Isko and Araminta, you’ll be our first pair, and at the top of the leader board, you’ll be a match to contend with.”
Isko: You’re really going to put me with the girl rubbing her relationship in all of our faces?
Araminta: It won’t be the first time Isko and I have worked together, but he’s had moments of real cruelty here and…no, I’m not looking forward to it.
It’s not quite a lie and not quite the truth from either of them. They work well together, can read each other, and might have more in common than they care to admit. But there’s no warmth there and certainly no trust.
“Rhys, you’ll be with Theo.”
Rhys: Excellent.
Theo: Absolutely not.
“And Kalpana and Jerome, you’ll be competing together.”
Jerome: That’s quite some sense of humor you have, viewers.
Kalpana: Is there any chance the first task will be to murder your partner?
Having delivered so much information, Eloise now takes a moment to revel in it. Her smile is slightly too tight and makes obvious the work she’s had done to keep the same face that first appeared on-screen decades ago.
“And we’ll be kicking things off with our first challenge—because from now until this time tomorrow, you’re going to be spending an awful lot of time with your partner—a whole twenty-four hours handcuffed together to be precise.”
“Are you joking?” Kalpana hisses. Jerome is just as angry, leaping from his seat and then standing still, like he doesn’t know what to do with his outrage.
Theo: Is this punishment? Tying me to Rhys in the hope that in comparison my old bandmates don’t seem so bad?
“You can forfeit if you’d like,” Eloise says. “But I don’t think you’ll want to. Each of you will have a key, so if one of your pair decides to quit, it’s over for you both. You either need to be the last pair cuffed or still handcuffed by this time tomorrow. If you are, you’ll win five points each.”
“We’ve got this in the bag,” Araminta whispers to Isko who nods, albeit a little reluctantly.
Isko: It won’t be fun, but I don’t imagine it will be hard.
“Five points is not worth it,” Jerome snarls.
Eloise arches an eyebrow, and something lights in her eyes, like it’s a moment she’s been waiting for.
“Which brings me to my final announcement.” Eloise pauses for long enough to make eye contact with each one of them. It feels daring, like she would like to push them until they break. “Iconic has really taken the world by storm. And in return for making this competition into the phenomenon it has become, we’re doubling your prize money. Whoever has the most points in two weeks’ time will be walking away with half a million dollars.”
She doesn’t even finish speaking before the handcuffs click shut.
@LolaLois
I’ve never felt a prouder part of the public than when I saw those pairings lmao, we’re all such shit stirrers #Iconic
@RiotParadeOfficial
The allegations being leveled against us are unequivocally false. But we advocate supporting and believing victims—so would like to prove our innocence to you rather than have you take our word for it. Therefore, we’ve made the difficult decision to postpone our upcoming tour while we collaborate with investigators and allow this matter to be settled in the proper manner.
@MeeraAWrites
@RiotParadeOfficial you’re really gonna try the “they’re false” card when those underage girls literally have photos of the party in your hotel room? With the three of you in?? Theo Newman was right to cut ties with you, you’re disgusting #TeamTheo #Iconic
Yesterday, Jerome had been keen to help, to tell them anything he could. But this morning he glowers as Kennard enters, his nostrils flaring.
“So you weren’t going to tell us they’re airing the final episode tomorrow?” he snaps. “We all just had to find that out ourselves from our hotel TVs?”
“We’re the police, not AHX. Informing you of scheduling decisions is on them,” Kennard says. He tries not to look at the mirror, where Cloutier stands watching him. He can’t be in the same room without being distracted, but without him he has no counterbalance, no one to even out his harsh edges.
“That’s not fair—it’s disgraceful, actually. Rhys deserves better than his death to become a finale.”
“I agree, and if we can prove a crime occurred, then that won’t happen. So I’d like to bring us onto why you spent an exorbitant amount of time in the smoking area the day he died.”
“I was smoking.”
“For so long? And you actually spent a while in there most days, twice as long as the others. What would make you cling to a space without cameras like that? Our forensics teams are scouring it, so perhaps the more appropriate question is what were you doing?”
Jerome pales. “It wasn’t like that. It wasn’t the cameras; it was them. When you’re there, you can’t escape them. There was always someone wherever you wanted to go. We all kind of respected each other’s privacy in the smoking area—sometimes you’d go and someone would be there, so you’d head back later.”
“So you were avoiding your fellow contestants? Why?”
“Why?” he scoffs. “Have you not seen everything that happened those last few days? Jesus, what are you doing here talking to me—go watch the footage.”
“Would you really like us to do that when we know you messed with the cameras?”
“I didn’t do a thing to the cameras.”
“Then what did you do when you hacked into AHX?”
Jerome glares and says nothing.
“You know, Mr. Frances,” Kennard says, leaning forward. “I can’t help but feel you want that episode aired.”
Jerome locks eyes with Kennard, lip curling up in a sneer. “Maybe it wouldn’t be fair on Rhys, but maybe I trust the public to get justice more than I trust the detectives wasting time talking to me when they should be interviewing whoever murdered him.”
Another knock at the door, Maes summoning them out again.
“The lawyer’s finally here,” she says. “You can talk to Araminta.”
Season 1, Episode 9
The episode opens with an argument, a blur of rising voices that implies this has been going on for hours, but now it slows, becomes coherent, like a camera zooming into focus.
“You don’t get to dictate our every waking moment, Jerome!”
“All we’ve had are waking moments—you were tossing and turning all night. I haven’t slept.”
“Oh, grow up. I had to go with you to the fucking bathroom. I might never recover.”
“Why don’t you sue me over it. The sight of a penis is something people go to court over these days, isn’t it, Kalpana?”
“Are you really making light of indecent exposure?”
“You’ll give a name to anything, won’t you? This is why real issues are swept under the rug—”
“Jerome!” Kalpana screeches. “Can we please go be around some other people, because if I’m latched to you for two more minutes, I’m going to indecently expose you to the sharp edge of a knife.”
“I’ve said yes, but I’m not sitting with you and Theo Newman while you discuss whatever nonsense you’ve decided is of the utmost importance today. You’re like stoners, but without the drugs that might make it all bearable.”
Kalpana: This is the worst thing to ever happen to me.
Jerome: Wow, what an incredible amount of privilege you must have.
Kalpana: Either let me out of these handcuffs or shut up. Is this not bad enough without me having to sit through the confessional footage with you too?
“Fine! At this point I’d go sit with the leaders of the NRA and fucking Donald Trump himself if it got me away from being alone with you.” Kalpana rubs at her wrist, which is already chafed, despite the soft silken lining to the handcuffs. She’s almost certain they’re sex toys, which makes being bound to Jerome with them even worse.
“You know, I actually kind of like—”
“Do not finish that sentence if you don’t want me to unlatch my handcuff right this second. How on earth are any amount of points worth this to you?”
“If I have to explain the appeal of half a million dollars to you, then I have some questions.”
Kalpana huffs and tosses her hair from her face. Unlatching this would be letting Jerome win by proving that he’s getting to her.
“Besides,” he continues, “we don’t need to stay cuffed together all day. We just need to get the others to cave before we do.”
Kalpana stops fidgeting with the handcuff, and for the first time, she sees that she and Jerome might have something to work with in partnership after all—they are both conspiratorial and have no shame about being underhanded. They might both simply call such things being clever.
“What did you have in mind?” she asks.
Jerome straightens up, his smile smug and self-assured. “There are dynamics already at play—Rhys and Theo hate each other, Isko isn’t a fan of Araminta, and most importantly, Araminta and Rhys can’t keep their hands off each other. Isko and Theo won’t be able to stand it. I say we take all of that and push it to its absolute limit.”
The pair find Theo and Rhys sitting in stony silence, sipping at coffee they’d fumbled to make with their hands joined.
“Well, you look like you’re having as much fun with this as I am,” Kalpana comments, noting the way Theo’s hand tightens on his mug.
In the early morning, it’s not quite hot enough for the shaded patio to feel warm, but the promise of the sun burns on the periphery, and Kalpana pours coffee over ice like she already needs the coolant.
“It’s fine,” Theo says tersely.
“No, this is the worst,” Jerome agrees almost cheerfully. “Agreeing that we both hate this is the first time we’ve stopped arguing.”
“I’m sure I can handle being latched to Newman,” Rhys says, batting his eyelashes at Theo. “There must be dozens of teenage girls who would pay good money to be where I am right now.”
A vein in Theo’s neck throbs.
Kalpana considers pushing that further, but she’s not very good at improvising so she pivots to the track she’d planned. “Still, you can’t be happy to be paired with Theo over Araminta. I imagine you’d have a lot more fun handcuffed to her.”
Rhys’s gaze cools as he turns to her. “And is imagining Araminta and me in handcuffs something you’ve spent a lot of time doing?”
“Please,” she scoffs. “You might be shocked to discover this, but you aren’t my type, Rhys.”
“Araminta then. Do you wish you’d been paired with her? You could stop her escaping from you and force her to be by your side.”
Kalpana leans forward, narrowing her eyes. “Is that how you see your relationship? Like you’ve trapped her?”
“Did I miss where this escalated?” Theo interjects.
“I just don’t like a woman who kissed my girlfriend talking about her or our relationship,” Rhys snaps.
“It was a kiss,” Kalpana says icily. “And it was before you were dating. If you want to talk about a double standard—Araminta is currently handcuffed to a man you fucked.”
“Besides,” Jerome says, “everyone on this island has kissed Araminta. Hell, if the stories are anything to go by, half the population of London has kissed Araminta.”
“Theo, would you please come with me? I’d very much like to storm off now,” Rhys says.
“No, I’m quite happy right here.”
Rhys: I did consider it, actually—just unlatching the handcuff. I don’t want to do this—I want to be with Araminta. And maybe, for that opportunity, it would be worth losing. But I’m trying to think long term, of all the things that prize money could mean for us.
“I’ll unlatch the handcuff,” he bluffs.
“Jesus Christ, Sutton,” Theo grumbles, rising to his feet, coffee still clutched in his free hand. “Fine, whisk us away in whatever dramatic exit you have planned.”
Jerome: I think that went well, don’t you?
Kalpana: Yeah, it was a good start. A bit alarming though. Rhys brushes everything off, but that struck deep? I never even wanted a relationship with Araminta, and he was acting like he’d bested me.
Jerome: Is that what you’re mad at? The implied victory? Not him reducing Araminta to a prize?
Kalpana: Oh, get fucked, Jerome.
Araminta and Isko are so at ease with the situation that it has crossed into a passiveness that is in itself awkward. They are amicable enough, but they are not deep or meaningful, their conversation all stilted pleasantries and vague necessities.
Isko is unbothered.
But for Araminta, it ruffles something at the edge of her mind, some lingering concern she’d done her best to avoid but now struggles to evade: loneliness.
She feels lonely on this island. All these people and no one to confide in. She has had to rely on her friends more than most, but now that something so exciting is happening to her, she has no one. She wants someone to gush about her crush to, someone to get as excited as she is every time Rhys makes her swoon, someone to squeal to after every date.
But beyond Rhys, who is there? At best it is this—courteous disinterest.
“Hey, I want to touch up my makeup,” she says, drawing Isko to the bathroom and ambling to the conditioning mask, slipping out her bag of pills and carefully pressing one into his hands. He lifts a singular eyebrow, which could mean too many things—amusement, curiosity, surprise—and swallows the tablet without question.
In part, she needs it. In part, she hopes the secret might bond them together, repair their fractures.
Isko appreciates it, but he also pockets the existence of her pill stash away for future leverage.
They take their high to the beach. The sun scorches like it’s issuing a challenge. There is something almost Eloise-like in the way that it looms in the sky.
“Oh god,” Isko groans, and when Araminta looks up, she sees Theo and Rhys coming over.
“Rhys!” she beams unashamedly. The more she can be the excitable, innocent one in this relationship, the more she reshapes her own story. The thing they all miss when they scream about all the people she’s dated, when all they see is proof that no one can suffer her long but might like the look of her long enough to try—they miss that it is also a list of how many times she has gotten her hopes up, and put herself wholly on the line for love.
